


All That Matters

by yocatrina



Category: The X-Files, revival - Fandom
Genre: F/M, big spoon scully, it ends well tho i swear, panic attack tw, the break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yocatrina/pseuds/yocatrina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully leaves Mulder post IWTB and they are both miserable. nice</p><p>i wrote this at 4 am and i cried ......</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you savannah (expectos-patronum.tumblr.com) and sarah (ritazien on ao3) ilu so much!!

He knew it was coming. He kept looking for signs that would prove him wrong: a lingering touch, a brief kiss on the lips, cheek, forehead, anywhere; a faint smile, anything that would suggest this was all his imagination. Instead, he found deception where he sought love and exhaustion when he tried to recreate what they once had. She's who she’s always been: stubborn, eloquent, intelligent, brave, strong and beautiful. She's who she’s always been, but something’s missing. He's who he’s always been, and yet, they’re not who they used to be. At first, he thought it was a rough patch. They had gone through those a few times before; they were fuelled by the hell they went through all those years ago. It was remorse and doubt, arguments and sadness, but those feelings never overpowered how they felt about each other. How foolish of him to think that this time, everything would come back to normal. This wasn’t a rough patch. Their bodies didn’t touch, even though they slept in the same bed. Their lips didn’t meet anymore. Their hugs were rare and awkward. She stopped asking him about his day. They didn’t eat together. There was a time when she would have followed him all the way to the truth, even if they had to swim in fire, because she could find the stars in his eyes. 

 

She would have given him every single atom in her body. She gave him all she had. She can’t continue to pour every part of herself into his quest, into him. She doesn’t have anything left to pour. She doesn’t know how to lead them both to recovery anymore. She can’t find a way to protect herself and Mulder at the same time. She wants to move forward; he’s stuck in the past. When she tells him she’s moving in a week, he stares into her eyes, looking for a fragment of their history. Their story doesn’t seem so great now. He’s not surprised she’s leaving. It’s a wonder she stayed by his side this long.

 

Her clothes are scattered across the bed. She’s packing and he can’t take his eyes off her. He had ridiculously hoped she would change her mind before it came to this. She lifts her head and notices him. Her eyes are full of compassion and it’s more than he can handle. He leaves her vision in a second. She resumes packing. She is careful not to forget the Bigfoot teddy he gave her on the anniversary of their 15th year knowing each other. She goes to the bathroom and puts a bag of sunflower seeds in the medicine cabinet. She fills the fridge with home cooked meals she prepared at her mother’s house. She leaves her favorite mug behind. She takes her suitcase to the door as he watches helplessly. He keeps his distance while she puts her coat on. She hesitates before grasping the door handle, until she remembers that she can’t take care of them both any longer. He sees her indecisive hand reaching for the handle. He wants to interpret this as a sign that she would rather stay. She’s halfway through the front door when he calls out, “Scully. I—” She turns slowly, dreading the look on his face, “Mulder, don’t.” She is teary-eyed, and he realizes that she’s hurting just as much as he is. He lets her go. 

 

He sinks to the floor against the front door. He blinks, and tears stream down his face. He lost the only good thing in his life, the only person he could hold onto. He lost his touchstone. He cries until all he feels is numbness, and then he falls to his side. He finds sleep, thanks to exhaustion. He gets up the next morning only to go to the couch and watch TV. That night, he decides to sleep in their bed. He stays on his side of the bed, as if he could forget that she was gone. He curls into the fetal position and cries himself to sleep. It’s morning, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. Her perfume lingers in the sheets, and he wants to believe that if he stays like this, he can pretend she’s right next to him. The phone rings. He doesn’t get up. He spends a week like this before he gathers the strength to shower. His headache is stronger now that he’s standing up and he opens the medicine cabinet. He reaches for an Advil and discovers a bag of sunflower seeds. He sighs before eating some and taking his Advil. Once the water is hot enough, Mulder gets in the shower and washes. When he’s done, he stays there without purpose. He sits while the water is still running, holding his legs and rocking back and forth as he cries. He’s the source of every bad thing that ever happened to Scully. It’s his fault that she’d been abducted, had cancer, lost her sister. She suffered because of him. She suffers because of his choices. He starts hyperventilating when he thinks of what could have been; when he pictures them with William and he thinks about how amazing Scully would have been as a mother. She had no choice but to give William up, because he _can’t_ let go. He hates himself for making his only and best friend endure so much, the only person who believed him and believed in him, loved him, cared for him and supported him through his craziest theories. All he’s ever done is hurt her, one way or another, directly or indirectly. She deserves better than this, and it’s good that she left. He tries to take deep breaths, but it’s not working he can’t breathe he wants to puke the thoughts are overwhelming the water is abrasive and — he punches the wall. It brings him back to his senses and he turns off the water. He just wants to see her, to make sure that the best years of his life were real. He just wants to be by her side. That would be enough. It takes him forever to fall into Morpheus’s arms.

 

Scully clutches Bigfoot against her heart. The bed is too big; the walls are bland. There are boxes everywhere. This doesn’t feel like home. She hasn’t felt this empty in years. She wishes she could have stayed with him. She wishes she had the courage and the strength to protect William. Mulder would have been a wonderful father. He would have told the most unbelievable stories to their son. They would have told him about their cases, their delirious moments of fatigue, the jokes they shared during their partnership at the FBI. She catches herself smiling as the thought of Mulder telling William that they saw a spaceship in the Antarctic crosses her mind. She can imagine Mulder teaching a 6 year old William how to play baseball. She reprimands herself for dwelling on what could, should, would have been if this or that had gone differently. She hopes Mulder is doing well. She knows he isn’t. She cries long and loud like she hasn’t done in a while. It takes her forever to find sleep. 

 

She copes the only way she knows how: she works. She does all she can to save her patients and she wishes she could save Mulder, too. She wishes she could save herself. The days at the hospital are busy and she thanks God they are because she doesn’t have time to think about Mulder. When she comes back to her apartment, though, there’s nothing to distract her. She doesn’t have the energy to cook, so she orders Chinese more often than not. She tries to reassure herself that she made the right choice, that she’s recovering her sense of self. She lost herself in Mulder and their quest to find the truth. He never asked her to sacrifice anything. She’s not angry with him, far from it. She loved him. She loves him still, she can’t deny it, but she needs to move forward. She put him before everything else most of the time, and it's time she put herself first, she tells herself as tears run down her face. 

 

When she feels her chest tightening and her head spinning when she wakes up from a nightmare, she longs for his warmth. She tries to have another man, a coworker, sleep next to her after a couple months and she hates it. She can’t stop shifting, she stares at the ceiling. The ragged breathing next to her makes her nauseous and she’d rather sleep on the couch, so that’s what she does.

That man asks her why she left the bed. She doesn’t know how to answer, but she wants to say, “I can’t tolerate the fact that you’re not him.” Instead, she tells him she had a nightmare and watched TV to stop her mind from racing. It’s not entirely a lie. She sees that man at work from time to time. He leaves some messages. She doesn’t call back. He gets the hint and leaves her alone. She puts her wedding ring on her necklace, next to the cross. Close to her heart. With her always.

 

Mulder tries to distract himself, and it’s surprisingly efficient. He starts taking care of himself again, one step at a time. He makes coffee for the first time in months. He figures it’s time to ditch the energy drinks. As usual, he adds cream and sugar and burns his tongue on the first sip. He puts the mug on the counter and lets it cool off. When he reaches for it again, he realizes it’s her cup. He wonders if she left it here on purpose. He sighs and pours the coffee down the drain. Scully texts him from time to time, reminding him to eat, sleep, wash, enjoy the little things. It’s bittersweet. He has no one but her. 

 

A year goes by, and they both know something’s missing. Mulder is trying to fill the hole in his heart. Scully is trying to deny that she doesn’t feel whole without him. 

 

She catches him off guard by calling on a Sunday morning. He’s already stunned that someone is calling him and his breath stops when he realizes it’s her. He picks up. She takes a deep breath. Her voice shakes as she says, “Is it alright if I come home?” He shuts his eyes. His voice is hesitant, he doesn’t want to push her away. “You’re always welcome.” He’s crying. She notices. She’ll be there this afternoon with her essentials. He tidies up the place and waits for her, agitated. 

 

She’s not sure if she should knock. She still has her key, but this hasn’t been her home for a year. She has been a stranger for a year. She knocks. He opens the door a moment later and she drops her suitcase. They smile at each other before embracing. The hug is tight, intimate and reassuring. They cry in each other’s arms. “I’m so sorry,” they both say, over and over again. “Welcome home,” he tells her, and she chuckles. He can’t help but imitate her. She breaks the embrace and cups his face with her hands. She looks into his eyes as she smiles, and says, “I missed you.” He cries while he kisses her with a passion that makes up for all the lost kisses of the past year. When the kiss ends, he stares at her, “I love you, Scully.” She chuckles because she can hardly believe that he just said those words. He takes her hand to lead her to their bedroom. 

 

“You changed the bed cover,” she remarks.

 

“Your taste in bed covers was always questionable,” he teases. She shoves him lightly with her shoulder. 

 

Mulder closes his eyes when Scully’s familiar arms surround him and she breathes softly against his neck. Scully kisses his neck. She drifts to sleep thinking that this moment is all that matters.


End file.
